


Do Not Fear Isengard

by Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces



Series: Gargoyles: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Shot, Blue Shot [7]
Category: Gargoyles (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of a character study, Lord of the Rings references, gratuitous use of flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces/pseuds/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces
Summary: "Now that Goliath had returned, Hudson had to forfeit his position as Brooklyn’s mentor, and a feeling of sadness and envy Hudson couldn’t quite name lingered like a shadow over his heart for the briefest moment. The feeling quickly replaced itself with chastisement for the longing of his younger days. He, out of all of them, encouraged the others to embrace the Clan’s movement into the next generation, and he needed to remain steadfast in that belief."Or, Hudson reflects on his complex relationship with Brooklyn as mentor, friend, and father.
Relationships: Brooklyn & Hudson (Gargoyles), Clan as Family - Relationship
Series: Gargoyles: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Shot, Blue Shot [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599325
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Do Not Fear Isengard

Everyone awoke at sunset the evening following the shooting in Elisa’s living room. Yet, it was clear to Hudson upon waking that Brooklyn had finally met his limit. The young gargoyle’s head fell sleepily onto Hudson’s shoulder just minutes after waking. 

He noticed Broadway and Goliath’s concern, but Hudson’s heart finally relaxed. The boy finally allowed himself some time to heal. Hudson gingerly lifted the lad into his arms and held him close. 

“I’ll carry him home.” Goliath offered as he received Brooklyn’s limp body into his own sturdy arms. 

Hudson longed for the strength of his younger years. He would have gladly carried Brooklyn on his own, but Goliath was right in this. Hudson was not Brooklyn’s leader or his mentor. That duty fell with Goliath. Now that Goliath had returned, Hudson had to forfeit his position as Brooklyn’s mentor, and a feeling of sadness and envy Hudson couldn’t quite name lingered like a shadow over his heart for the briefest moment. The feeling quickly replaced itself with chastisement for the longing of his younger days. He, out of all of them, encouraged the others to embrace the Clan’s movement into the next generation, and he needed to remain steadfast in that belief. 

Still, Hudson feared for the lad as if he were his own second. His own son, and Brooklyn had been, at his hatching. He had been one of many sons and daughters that had long since perished. 

They landed, and Bronx, Angela, and Lexington ran out of the clocktower to meet them. 

Lex saw Brooklyn’s sleeping form in Goliath’s arms, and Hudson watched, for a moment, as Lexington stared at Brooklyn’s chest rising and falling. 

Hudson observed silently as Lexington approached Brooklyn. The lad drifted his gaze towards Goliath and reached to hold his brother. 

Brooklyn’s eyes opened for a moment, and Hudson couldn’t help but smile at the slightly sleepy and dazed look on Brooklyn’s face. 

Brooklyn avoided Lex’s gaze as soon as he realized he was home. 

“Don’t do that to me,” Lex whispered. “Don’t … please.”

Hudson could see Lex physically trying to stop himself from shouting. Yet, Hudson didn’t begrudge little Lexington for a moment when his anger finally spilled forth. 

“Why?! Why did you do it? Why the hell would you do that? It was stupid! So, stupid! Do you think I wouldn’t care? Do you think we wouldn’t care! The hell, Brooklyn? You’re alive, by the moon! But, what if you hadn’t ... What if you died?” Lex nuzzled into Brooklyn’s shoulder. 

Hudson noticed that Brooklyn had the good sense to look ashamed, but he noted too that Brooklyn appeared confused by the affection. 

“I-I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” Brooklyn squeezed Lexington close. 

“You have to tell me. Tell someone. Tell anyone. Never, never do that again. You have value, and needs that are and will always be worthy of care. A-and someday, some beautiful gargoyle woman will come along and she’ll see you. Not for what you’ve dealt with, but she’ll see you. And, she’ll find this hole and fill it with good things. The scary shit will be replaced with good shit and … and every bad memory will have a dozen good ones to contradict it.” Lex’s voice broke as he sobbed into Brooklyn’s shoulder. 

Hudson noticed that both lads were crying openly now, and he saw how they clung to each other like two desperate little boats tethered together and lost at sea. He glanced at Goliath, Angela, and Broadway. Angela had taken Broadway into her arms and comforted him. Hudson had gotten a good enough picture to understand that most of this had been an accident, but it had come so close to other tragedies that it made the grief more raw, painful, and real. 

“Lexington, lad. Why don’t you join Goliath on a glide? Staying here will only make the grief worse.” Hudson removed a sniffling Lexington from Brooklyn’s tight embrace. 

Lex looked up with wide round eyes, and he nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his arm a final time. “Th-that sounds good.” 

Hudson and Goliath met each other’s gaze for a moment. Hudson noticed the sternness melt from Goliath’s eyes for a moment, and Hudson saw the weight that Goliath carried with a fresh perspective. 

“You two,” Goliath looked to Broadway and Angela. “It’s your night to patrol the city. Don’t do anything rash.” 

Hudson noticed that Broadway had the good sense to look ashamed. Nightly patrol would have been Goliath and Lexingon’s, but Broadway had disobeyed a direct order from one of his leaders. Hudson observed as the lad nodded sagely and took off with Angela in tow. 

Hudson tried not to make his still seething anger and general displeasure known. Brooklyn would have had no opportunity to pull this stunt had Broadway listened, and Brooklyn tried to protect both of them before jumping straight into the fray. 

Those two small things gave Hudson an exorbitant amount of hope. 

Goliath gave one last look in Hudson’s direction before taking off.

Bronx had curled up next to Brooklyn. Hudson couldn’t help the small, paternal, smile that crossed his features when he noticed that Brooklyn had fallen back to sleep on the stone floor with his cheek pillowed into Bronx’s side. 

Hudson once again gently lifted Brooklyn into his arms, and he held him for just a moment there under the brightly lit sky of New York City on the balcony of their home. Hudson placed his own weather-worn cheek on the crown of Brooklyn’s head, and he closed his eyes for just a moment. He thought about holding Brooklyn when the lad had been days old and freshly hatched. He remembered those wide and intelligent eyes boring into him with great interest, and Hudson thought, for a moment, if he let his cheek rest here for eternity that it might teleport them back in time. It might take them back home to the time and space in which, he once felt, they were safest. Yet, Hudson knew there was no such miracle, and it was only a dream, a fantasy, that was trying to lead him away from his true goal. His only goal was the survival of his clan. 

Hudson found the strength and will power to stand, and he carried Brooklyn inside to the recliner where he set Brooklyn down. He saw the discarded blanket on the floor, and he warped Brooklyn up in it. 

“You know, I’m glad you’re finally taking this moment, laddie. The others have never seen this, have never felt this. Praise the moon, they haven’t. But, I’ve seen it, and even felt it, sometimes,” Hudson sighed deeply. “Robbins and I have talked of this shadowy feeling that passes over you. I see it in your features, lad. The pain of the shadow.” 

Brooklyn stirred slightly, but he didn’t wake. Brooklyn’s head fell to one side, and Hudson smiled. He rubbed Brooklyn’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

“There are wounds that stone sleep cannot heal, laddie. Wounds of the mind. The kind Robbins and I carry. The kind you will now bear for your brief time upon this earth.” Hudson took Brooklyn’s hand in his and he began tracing circles on the inside of Brooklyn’s palm. “I’m glad you finally have taken the time to rest. Sometimes, that is all that can be done.” 

Hudson recalled the time spent after Goliath and Demona had helped him to defeat the Archmage. He remembered his days of melancholy after losing his sight and being unable to defend Prince Malcolm. Hudson resigned himself to loss, despite Goliath’s insistence on needing his council. Hudson did not have the words then, nor did he now, despite his ever expanding word bank, to describe the heartache and failure after that quest. Days, months, years, and now more than a full millenia had passed since that day, and he still sometimes felt the weight of his first failure to protect Princess Katharine’s father. He remembered staring out into space, and sleeping, until something had come to distract him several moon rises later. 

“You are so brave, laddie. Sometimes,” Hudson chuckled despite everything, “too much so for your own good.” 

Hudson drew in a long breath and willed the tears that formed in the corner of his good eye to stop. “But, you cannot do this to yourself, laddie. For all of our sakes, never again.” 

Hudson’s gaze locked on Brooklyn’s hand as the lad lifted a single claw and traced a cross over his heart. Hudson recalled the small gesture as one Elisa had used with her brother. It was the sign of a promise, and Hudson returned it with a sad smile. 

“Cross my heart,” Brooklyn mumbled sleepily. 

“And hope to die.” Hudson returned to holding Brooklyn’s hand. 

Bronx looked up at Hudson with wide eyes and a soft whimper. 

“I know boy,” Hudson sighed again. “I know. It’s a hard thing to see them go through this pain, but it is part of what life is, and that’s a fact.” 

Hudson returned his gaze to Brooklyn, and he smiled wearlily again. For, Brooklyn’s mouth was partly open as Brooklyn turned his head and it flopped over to the other side of his shoulder. Hudson noticed the way that Brooklyn’s chest rose and fell with each gentle breath, and Hudson felt himself breathing deeper than he had these last several moon rises for it. The hand Hudson wasn’t holding was draped over Brooklyn’s chest and stomach which also rose and fell with each soft rise and fall of his chest. 

Hudson recalled when Goliath had told him of his choice for a second on what felt like two thousand moon rises ago. Hudson had clasped Goliath’s hand and reaffirmed his choice. Yet, for Hudson, the choice was easy to affirm. 

For, Hudson remembered training all of the young hatchlings in Brooklyn’s group. 

Hudson had stood in front of all of the hatchlings with their eyes trained on him. Training the young gargoyles had become his new permanent passtime. Sure, he had certainly aided in gliding lessons with the younger mothers and fathers of the clan, and he had educated all the young hatchlings to revere his leadership. Yet, for those last ten years before the horrid massacre of his people, he spent nearly all of his time with either Goliath or the youth of his clan. 

Hudson smiled as he traced another circle against the back of Brooklyn’s knuckles. 

For, as Hudson stood in front of the group of impetuous twenty-six year olds, his eyes found the little red face staring up at him from the front row. His two brothers, green and blue on either side of him, did not look nearly so enraptured in the lessons on what being a protector of the castle meant. Hudson chuckled as he recalled the three of them being the most engaged of all the young faces of their rookery. 

“A protector would give their life for the greater good of their clan without question and without hesitation. For,” Hudson had raised his hands to allow the children to speak a time tested phrase. 

“A gargoyle can no more stop protecting the castle than breathing the air.” The youthful gargoyles chorused in varying degrees of monotone. 

“And I’m not afraid!” Brooklyn had stood up pointing to himself. “Let those smelly human Vikings take me on, and I’ll give them a taste of their cold steel right up their …” 

Hudson cleared his throat. “And where, pray tell, did you hear these words? Hmm …?” 

“Goliath’s mate. I heard her and Goliath talking about letting us in on the next battle for real this time!” Brooklyn flopped back down with a slightly embarrassed grin as he realized the reality of his outburst.

“Well, she is not wrong. You will be allowed to participate in full, but between us … try not to repeat anything she says.” Hudson had chuckled giving Brooklyn a wink. 

Hudson squeezed Brooklyn’s hand as the memory faded back into the present. It took a moment for Hudson to realize that tears were winding their way down his cheeks. He reached one of his hands up to wipe the tears away, but once they had begun he was powerless to stop them. 

The fear that held a vice grip on his heart these last several days finally released itself like a bowstring unwinding when released for a shot. Hudson pressed Brooklyn’s hand to his forehead as the tears fell faster with each shake of his old shoulders. His boy, his beautiful boy, was alive. He may not be well, not yet, but those curious eyes would still open in the morning. His little lad’s heart would still beat strong come tomorrow’s moonrise. Hudson still had chances to save his legacy. 

Brooklyn’s eyes fluttered open groggily again, and Hudson knew that his tears had been enough to wake the lad from his slumber. Hudson’s smile wavered under the weight of grief-stricken, and yet joyful, tears, and Hudson knew Brooklyn could tell. 

Brooklyn didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke the confusion and concern that his voice couldn’t, and Hudson just used his free hand to pat the top of the one he held. 

“I was just thinking of the past, laddie. Of our old home, and our old time. Of our hills.” Hudson reached a hand to cup Brooklyn’s cheek. “They’ll be getting back soon. For, sunrise is a mere three hours away.” 

Brooklyn curled back in towards the recliner. “‘S gonna sound so childish …”

“Nothing could. Not now.” Hudson placed a strong and comforting hand on Brooklyn’s back. 

For a brief moment, it looked like Brooklyn might be in pain, but the flicker passed after a second when Hudson rubbed some circles over Brooklyn’s back. 

“C’n you just sing or talk to me till sunrise. I-I had a nightmare during sleep, and I’m afraid of sunrise coming.” Brooklyn’s back shook slightly with a shaky breath as Hudson continued his slow soothing circles. 

Hudson reached a hand to lightly smooth Brooklyn’s hair back with three slow strokes. “Of course, lad. I’ll be here. I supposed that’s why you were so tired upon waking. Dreams and terrors of our mind’s own inventions can often make that so.” 

Brooklyn nodded as a few tears slipped silently down his cheeks. “Will they ever stop?” 

“Yes, lad. They’ll stop, and then,” Hudson sighed, “Then, they’ll return on nights when you don’t expect them. You’ll wake, and you’ll be afraid of your own shadow, for a moment. But, they get easier to bear, laddie, as time goes by.” 

Brooklyn nodded again as a few lingering tears made their way down his cheeks. 

“Can you wait a moment for me to grab something?” Hudson asked after a minute of silence and no more words to fill it. “I want to grab your book, and I’ll attempt to read it to you.” 

Brooklyn grinned, and he gave a few quick nods. 

It only took Hudson a few minutes to find and retrieve the yellowing paperback. As Hudson began to read the chapter, his heart raced. Brooklyn had been telling him about this book and the series. He knew little Pippin to be the youngest member of this intergenerational fellowship. So, when Hudson read of the little child taking hold of a magical orb and being forced into communication with the darkest forces of his Middle Earth, he couldn’t help but imagine his own little one before him. 

“" 'So this is the thief!' said Gan-dalf. Hast-ily he cast his cloak over the gl-globe where it lay. 'But you, Pippin! This is a griev- grievous turn to things!' He knelt by Pippin's body; the hobbit was lying on his back, rigid, with unseeing eyes staring up at the sky. 'The devilry! What mis-chief has he done - to himself, and to all of us?' The wizard's face was drawn and hag-haggard." Hudson’s voice wavered only slightly, and neither he nor Brooklyn could parse whether it was due to unfamiliar words or the tension of the scene itself. 

Brooklyn clung to Hudson’s hand. “We can’t stop here. I have to know what happens.” 

Hudson nodded and continued. Both Hudson and Brooklyn released a breath when Pippin awoke, but Hudson’s voice broke with tears over the lines the young Pippin spoke. 

Hudson continued on despite knowing these words would break both of their hearts. " 'Gandalf!' he cried. 'Gandalf, forgive me!'

'Forgive you?' said the wizard. 'Tell me first what you have done!'

'I, I took the ball and looked at it,' stam- stam- stammer-red Pippin; 'and I saw things that frightened me. And I wanted to go away, but I couldn't. And then he came and quest-tioned me; and he looked at me, and, and that is all I remember.'

'That won't do,' said Gandalf sternly. 'What did you see, and what did you say?'

Pippin shut his eyes and shivered, but said nothing. They all stared at him in silence, except Merry who turned away. But Gandalf's face was still hard. 'Speak!' he said.” 

Brooklyn turned to look at Hudson. His eyes were sympathetic and full of fear. So, Hudson clung to Brooklyn’s hand and read on. 

But, they both paused as Hudson read, "'Then suddenly he seemed to see me, and he laughed at me. It was cruel. It was like being stabbed with knives.'” 

Hudson could not explain the emotions that passed over Brooklyn’s face as that line settled in the air like ash and dust or the human’s ever rising incense. The first was a look of anguish when Brooklyn’s face scrunched with tears that fell silently and quickly. The second was a look of unadulterated understanding when Hudson watched Brooklyn bow his head in shared shame. The third was one of acceptance which appeared, to Hudson, in the form of a soft squeeze of his hand. 

Hudson set the book on the ground and embraced Brooklyn tightly. It was then, the full force of the line struck them both in soundless tears. Hudson’s hand rubbed the tight place between Brooklyn’s shoulders as Brooklyn curled himself deeply into Hudson’s chest. Hudson stroked Brooklyn’s hair with the most fatherly caresses. 

“’s alright, lad.” Hudson lifted Brooklyn from the recliner to bring him closer. “‘Tis alright.” 

“How did he know? How did he get it so right?” Brooklyn wailed. 

“I’ve learned from Robbins that books are magic like that. They understand us best when we understand them.” Hudson pressed his hand to the back of Brooklyn’s head and drew him close. 

They remained that way for a few more moments settling into the weight of the sadness and hope that consumed them. 

Then, Hudson began to read again. He continued to stumble on the large words this Tolkien fellow used. But, he finished the chapter all the same. 

"'But I should like to know - ' Pippin began.

'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of inquisitiveness, I shall spend the rest of my days in answering you.' " Hudson closed the book, and his gaze returned to Brooklyn. 

The younger gargoyle was pillowed against his chest, and at some point in the final few paragraphs, Bronx had settled in Brooklyn’s lap. 

Hudson smiled genuinely for the first time in awhile. He heard the soft footsteps behind him before the others announced their presence. 

“He’s resting again, but it seems he’ll be alright by the next moon rise.” Hudson turned slightly towards the others. 

“Thank you for watching over him.” Goliath clasped Hudson’s shoulder. 

“Aye, all will be well soon enough.” And for once, Hudson believed it, for, it seemed things would finally be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope this fills the Hudson sized hole in this fandom's heart. It's not super necessary to have read the other fics in the series, but it would make me happy if you did. This plot bunny wouldn't leave me be last night so I just had to write it. The next thing I post will be the final installment in the "Post-Possession" fic mini series. 
> 
> Writing from inside Hudson's head was a joy! I loved writing his flashbacks and his perceptiveness. It enjoy doing character studies in this format. 
> 
> Not sure how gargoyles deal with PTSD and depression, but I'm assuming it's similar to humans? I searched all over GargWiki, but I didn't see anything. However, I did learn that gargoyles can dream during stone sleep which for someone dealing with what Brooklyn is up against ... would bite. I'm just gonna say that much. 
> 
> Also, I'd referenced Brooklyn reading the beginning chapters of the Two Towers in the first fic in this set. I figured he would have been reading it a little more over the course of the last few weeks in this timeline. Therefore, getting to the end of the first half by now would make sense. Hence, the scene with the book. I really wanted to draw the parallel between the palantir and Coldsteel because I saw it as soon as I watched the episode. 
> 
> This has gotten long. Still looking for people to tell me what they'd like me to write next. If no one says anything, I'm leaning on writing about Macbeth again. I miss my immortal son. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


End file.
